


Similes

by lostinparallel



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, No Dialogue, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinparallel/pseuds/lostinparallel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec smiles like he’s out of practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Similes

Alec smiles like he's out of practice.

He smiles like he’s starving, hungry for a fleeting breath of happiness he hasn’t tasted in so long.

He smiles like he doesn’t remember how, his lips stretching awkwardly as the foreign expression transforms his face.

He smiles like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen, like you’re the sun and he’s the moon and he only ever wants to shine for you, a blinding flash of teeth and sparkling eyes.

His smiles are precious, rare, and gone in an instant. That familiar frown settles over his features, the uneasy tug of his eyebrows and the grim set of his mouth. He rarely holds himself to his full height but when he does he towers over you. It’s exhilarating. It’s mesmerising. It’s almost intimidating. Instead, he tends to slouch, shoulders hunched and arms handing limply by his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

He’s far too still. His gaze holds yours for too long, as though he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory, always afraid that this will be the last time he sees you. So his eyes drink up every ounce of your being until there’s nothing left but the dry rattle of your heart shuddering inside your battered ribcage.

You suppose you’re out of practice too.

You know this down to your very core, terrified of getting too close, terrified of losing someone like him again. But you yearn for him. It’s like gravity, pulling you into his orbit. It’s natural. It’s inevitable. It’s out of your control.

The boy standing in front of you knows control. It grounds him, centres him, drives out every last shred of emotion deemed undesirable by those determined to hold him back. Emotions are a distraction and he refuses to let himself be ruled by them. But he is. And so are you.

You tell yourself it’s bad for you. You tell yourself you’re hurting him, feeding the conflict and confusion that threatens to swallow him whole. You don’t tell him that, of course. Instead, you tell him you want to help. You tell him you understand. You tell him there’s nothing to be afraid of. And all of these things are true – they must be – but the words taste like ashes in your mouth, bitter and heavy on your silver tongue. Because you _are_ afraid. Because you don’t understand.

Because you need help, too.

You’re both broken things. You’ve lived too long while he’s barely lived at all. But you can fix this. You can heal the crumbling fracture in your marble hearts. Because you may have forgotten how to fall in love but he’s never learnt how.

You remember – the fire pulsing through your veins and the flutter of butterfly wings filling your stomach. The feeling isn’t new to you. And perhaps it isn’t new to him, either. There are different kinds of love, after all.

You tell him you wanted to see him again.

He tells you he doesn’t understand why.

You ask him why he came here.

He says he doesn’t know.

You tell him it’s okay. You tell him you can teach him. You can find out together.

He doesn’t believe you, but he listens. And he lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> a quick drabble i thought up after watching episode 6. malec keeps my gay little heart beating.


End file.
